


Scurvy for Kids! (Two to Tango)

by gabanti



Series: Sam and the (Sunset) City. [1]
Category: Sunset Overdrive (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Awkward Flirting, Getting Together, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pining, Self-Indulgent, They Can’t Dance, shitty dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabanti/pseuds/gabanti
Summary: Two guys find themselves on a bridge overlooking  the end of the world.
Relationships: Sam/Player (Sunset Overdrive)
Series: Sam and the (Sunset) City. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012068
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Scurvy for Kids! (Two to Tango)

**Author's Note:**

> My condolences to 4Kim.

Two guys find themselves on a bridge overlooking the end of the world. 

This is, frankly, a little too dramatic.

The sky is clear, the sun is out, and there is no immediate danger. Below the bridge, the city is settling into its usual lull. Some scabs are picking off stray OD, leaving some messy orange stains on the asphalt. A kid is tagging the side of a building with a nasty shade of green paint. Everything is normal in Sunset City. It’s not the end of the world, it’s the start of a new one. 

Sam leans against the railing, holding himself steady as he watches the way their little pocket universe unfolds below them. It’s exhilarating. 

He still pines for mediocrity, for long days spent in dusty lecture halls and stuffy libraries, for nights sleeping soundly, with nothing but the fear of bad grades weighing on him. This place doesn't seem so bad anymore though, not when he’s got people by his side.

One such person is adjacent to him, attempting to crawl over the railing. He’s making a good go at it, but can't seem to get any purchase on the slippery bars. Despite his efforts proving to be in vain, Sam’s companion is grinning. The curve of his lips is accentuated by the sun, and if Sam’s heart stutters, nobody has to know. 

During this time they’ve spent together, his hero-worship has become something much more embarrassing and much harder to keep under wraps.

”I could do with a boost, Sammy. You wore me out last night,” His friend teases, waggling his fingers, then starts in with a last-ditch effort to haul himself over the railing. 

Sam has no fucking clue why he wants over it so bad, nor does he know why the guy’s making such a show of not being able to get over. Nevertheless, he watches, amused, as his companion’s foot slips off the rail and he tumbles to the ground in a heap of garishly bright clothing that shudders with laughter.

He covers his mouth, trying to contain his laugh, but it just isn't meant to be. He nearly doubles over with the intensity of it and has to grip the railing tight so he doesn’t end up in an equally disarrayed pile on the ground.

”Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Sam. You won't be laughing when I kick you to the kerb drenched in Overcharge,” Sam’s equally amused friend says, rolling himself flat onto the grate and spreading his limbs out. Between the position and his mismatched clothing, he looks like some sort of downed scarecrow.

”I think I’ve earned the right to laugh, ” Sam bites back, abandoning the railing so he can settle on the grate as well. ”After all you put me through.” His tone declares that it’s a joke, but there’s still a visible shift in his friend’s demeanour. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn't see the flash of guilt. 

The object of his hero-worship is nothing but a man with a mile-a-minute, snarky ass mouth that Sam desperately wants to kiss. 

”Just a rib.” Sam says, and that’s enough. 

He pauses to take a breath, but instead of air, he gets a faceful of tattered pink feathers. One of them probably goes down his throat. Horrible.

After wheezing for a solid minute, he fixes the boa-wielding man with a glare he can barely maintain. It’s hard not to smile with a guy like this around.

”I hate you so much.” he says, punctuating it with a cough.

The statement doesn't seem to bother his friend much, because he sticks his tongue out and strokes the feather boa in his arms like it’s some kind of cat. 

”You love me,” he teases, and Sam _does_. He _does_. 

The realisation feels like pop rocks bursting under his skin, tingly and warm and a little like pins and needles. They’re in his heart too, sudden and hot enough to burn, then settling into a pleasant warmth that reaches his fingertips. 

”Maybe I do,” Sam murmurs offhandedly, a little dazed, and fixes his gaze on the water underneath them. It’s calm. Steady. It grounds him. 

The atmosphere changes, and he nearly loses himself again in how sudden it is. It feels like a layer of tension has been peeled away. 

A soft ’oh’ floats up from beside him, barely there, then he finds himself being tugged to his feet. For a moment, he wobbles, a bit unsteady on his feet. 

”Dance with me, fucker.”

Sam might die where he stands.

”Excuse me? You want to dance? Here? Right now? With me?” He asks, shaking himself loose from the hand clutching his blazer. Holy shit. 

”Of course not, I was talking to the OD behind you.” His companion retorts and flicks a stray pink feather off of his sleeve. Sam spares a cursory glance over his shoulder to make sure there are no OD lurking, then shakes his head.

”Here? Really?”

Sam is seized by the shoulders and jerked close enough to feel the heat radiating off of his friend’s skin. His face is probably turning a disgusting and vibrant shade of red. 

”Nowhere better.” His friend murmurs in his ear and puts a hand on his waist. Sam would be a liar if he said it didn't send shivers down his spine and blood rushing to places it doesn't belong. 

Neither of them knows how to dance and they step on each other's toes a few times, but eventually, they settle into some sort of movement that could be called dancing. It’s sorta nice. The experience could be greatly improved with a little music, but Sam will take what he can get. 

He’s only just managed to get into some sort of rhythm when he finds himself leaned back, dipped low, and scrabbling for a hold so he doesn't fall. 

”Relax, Sammy. I’m not gonna drop you.” 

So easy to say, so hard to promise. Sam is pulled back up, and they fall back into their improvised rhythm with surprising ease.

”So, should we talk about it?”

Sam hesitates, his whole body stiffening, and he accidentally steps on his friend’s toes. 

”I’d rather not,” He admits, ducking his head and trying to ignore the fresh flush of heat in his face. 

”Whatever suits you.” His friend says with a shrug, gently guiding him back into the rhythm. ”But, uh, maybe we could do something sometime? Like a date? I’m not sure what constitutes a date in the awesomepocalypse, but we could come up with something.”

”A date?”

”Yep, complete with snacks and smooches, if you want them.”

”I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> God I could write pining fics that end in getting together over and over again. I LOVE them.


End file.
